


The Maker is the rock to which I cling

by PraxisDescends



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, ITU Trash Crew
Genre: Best Friends, Camping, Comfort, Hiking, Kinloch Hold, Sickness, Templars, Templars (Dragon Age), the great outdoors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 17:43:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13463292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PraxisDescends/pseuds/PraxisDescends
Summary: While Arlan is sick with a fever, he and Tiernan must complete a hike as part of their Templar training. Tiernan is concerned that his best friend won't make it alone. Part of him is worried they won't make it at all.





	The Maker is the rock to which I cling

“He is going and that is final, recruit. You are dismissed.”  
The Knight Captain returned to her work without a second look. She needn’t have spared one, Tiernan’s hand was already at the door. His cheeks burned from the chewing out he’d received, but more than anything he felt ashamed that he hadn’t been able to talk her down. His hands clenched in his sleeves, his head bowed so he wouldn’t have to make eye contact with the others as they went around their preparations. 

Arlan was, as he left him, slumped on the arming bench, his arm stretched into a makeshift rest for his head, his legs splayed out threatening to drag him to the floor at any moment. The others gave him a wide berth for fear of catching it.  
‘Thank the Maker for small mercies,’ Tiernan mused as took a knee to lift Arlan, groaning, back onto his ‘bed’. Two days of this now and despite the healer’s best estimates, it showed no sign of breaking. 

“It’s just a fever,” they’d said. “It’s in his blood now, so he isn’t a risk to the others. It’ll break eventually.” He hadn’t asked what would happen if it didn’t. It wasn’t worth considering. What he needed now was bed rest, not to hike the shores of Lake Calenhad and sleep on the rock. Surely if Tiernan had been any sort of friend he would have been able to make the Knight Captain see that? Arlan hadn’t made himself popular with her since he arrived full of Free Marcher fire to kick around the hierarchy she’d constructed among the recruits. Not that he cared what she thought.

Lifting a tentative hand, Tiernan brushed Arlan’s dark hair from his forehead. It was getting long again. He’d need to get it seen to before the Knight Captain found more fault in him. It had been a long day, dawn assembly, morning work, anti maleficar drills, afternoon work, all to be up again before dawn for a day long hike. The teen had even tried to pack for them both, with a feverish Arlan managing to ramble his immediate thoughts to everyone around them while trying not to throw up, eventually draining both their water skins and passing out in the hallway.

It was a wonder Arlan had stayed together this long. Tiernan wasn’t convinced he’d actually awoken when the Lieutenant rang them out of bed early. He’d just groaned, as he was dressed. He’d done nothing but groan ever since. Even as he lay unconscious on the arming bench his brow was creased with the very pain of still occupying physical form.  
His eyes flickered open with another low noise, his hand reaching up to take Tiernan’s.

“T...?” His voice crackled as he spoke and it strengthened the teen’s resolve to protect his order-brother. His fingers wrapped around Arlan’s, threading their hands together.  
“Good morning,” he murmured gently, already hating the moment he would have to get the older man to his feet to begin their journey. The others would be readying to leave by now, and neither of them could afford to be caught wasting daylight.

“I feel like my mouth died,” Arlan made no move to rise, instead closing his eyes and squeezing Tiernan’s hand, just to be sure he was still there.  
“You’re not well, Arlan. I tried to speak to the Knight Captain on your behalf, but she wouldn’t hear it. We need to be going soon. More soon, now. I’m sorry.” There was such affection in the teenager’s voice that it took both of them off guard. With a lopsided grin, the older man moved to sit.

“Don’t be sorry, I’d have told her where to stick her hike,” he slurred, clutching at his head.  
“Yes but sometimes it’s more prudent not to speak at all rather than telling the Knight Captain she can ‘shove it’,” he smirked.  
“Shit, I didn’t!”  
“No, no you told Lila. But I don’t think she took it personally.” Arlan found the idea of offending the armory tranquil a little too funny. “You then apologised to a rack of spears and tried to pack your bag full of leather straps and tea.”  
Still clutching his friend’s hand, the Free Marcher swayed and slumped onto his shoulder.  
“Sound’s ‘bout right.”

‘All day,’ thought Tiernan, wrapping his arm around Arlan’s waist and half-carrying him to the side entrance. ‘I must be at this all day.’  
They were expected to mount the cloven ridge and hike to the nearest way-posts. There they would collect tokens put in place by the knights.  
‘Probably during warmer weather,’ thought Tiernan, uncharitably. 

There were some posts closer, and others further up the lake. If one were quick and clever they could have token in hand by mid afternoon and be rested at their camp for the rest of the day. The ambitious would try for that, the confident would push on and sew-up their day quickly enough. But there were only so many tokens at the first posts. The further up the ridge you ventured, the longer your day would be. Tiernan sighed and smiled at his dearest friend swaying in place, blinking blearily into the watery dawnlight. He’d accepted when Arlan awoke no better that neither of them wouldn't be pushing to compete with the others. He’d estimated that if they avoided the ridge all together and skirted the edge of Lake Calenhad most of the way, they could climb up a shallow point, collect their token from the end of the trail, and make camp by nightfall.

It proved to be a harder task than Tiernan had anticipated. Arlan was weak and shivering with groans of pain catching his every step. Even wrapped in scarf and hood the light was too bright for him, the air too fresh. They first broke, still in sight of the tower at the edge of the lake, Arlan collapsing to empty himself into a hedge. Neither of them had managed breakfast but still the Free Marcher found something to bring up. Wiping his mouth with a shaking hand he rasped in the direction of the shape that he thought was his travelling companion.

“I feel like shit, T.”  
“You look like shit too.” It was uncharacteristic for Tiernan, but it was worth it to see Arlan’s face split into a weak grin. For a moment he was back to his usual safe, at least until he hauled himself to his feet and continued walking again in earnest. He looked pale and drawn. Sometimes he would lean on the pike they had brought to see off enthusiastic wildlife, sometimes he would use Tiernan himself, fingers digging into the teen’s collarbone.

By mid afternoon the sun was distressingly bright and Arlan was on his knees alternating between dry heaving into the lake and trying to wash his mouth out with the silty water. By the time they set foot on the incline, Tiernan felt they had made a terrible mistake. Sweat was pouring off the older man even as his teeth rattled from the perceived chill. The movement in his jaw was making his head worse, and once it got bad enough he would stumble off the path to retch into the scrubby bushes that littered the ridge. This process repeated enough times that Tiernan’s heart rent with the feeling that he was torturing his friend beyond what he could sustain.  
“The Maker is the rock to which I cling,” Tiernan murmured, his eyes on the darkening sky.

The climb would not be easy going. He was sure if they pressed on they could find a shallower incline, but then they would be tackling the ascension in the dark which added more dangers than he was willing to account for. He knew he’d made the right choice as he watched Arlan struggled up the loose stones and unstable slope. Lake Calenhad fell away behind them as it took on the aspect of the dimming sky. Tiernan’s footing was not much better. But for as long as Arlan has hold of him he was responsible for his wellbeing.  
He hadn’t minded the day of silence, it had been contemplative. In all their time together the older man had respected his need for quiet as much as his desire for companionship. They had fit into each others space so naturally it was a marvel to Tiernan that he hadn’t been in his life all along. Another loose stone, and he wrapped a free arm around Arlan to keep him upright.

“I’m alright,” he muttered as he had all day, but still putting all his weight on the teen’s shoulder.  
“Clearly,” Tiernan couldn’t help but smile as he steadied them both. He was grateful for the last fingers of sunlight that clung to the ground around them and hoped they would point out the right spot before night fell. His hopes, it seemed had been unrealistic. He’d overestimated how early they would need to begin their climb, so afraid of missing the point altogether. And as Tiernan looked into the weary face of his only true friend, he made the decision to stop. He wouldn’t put Arlan through another painful step.  
The camp was almost unnecessary. Despite the wind rolling in from the lake, the clouds would keep off the worst of the cold, ideally without delivering on the promised rain. Arlan groaned as he was laid down on his bed roll, his forehead creasing from the sudden noise that has come from his own head. Crouched down to rummage for his lantern, Tiernan could see that his friend’s hair was pulling at his scalp and causing him no small distress. 

Abandoning the task, the teen scrambled over to the small half-tent. One hand pulled the dark locks free and combed them out with gentle fingers. Arlan’s face relax as his head settled into his companion’s touch. Tiernan settled down beside his unconscious friend, his thumb brushing stray strands from the older man’s tanned cheek.  
In the quiet of the gathering night, Tiernan could have sat there forever. He felt a warmth gather in his chest. They had walked so far from the Hold, the Free Marcher practically slung on his shoulder. In truth, he would have been happy if their hike had been longer. He hated seeing Arlan struck down with sickness, but if he had been well and the two of them had two full days without the others, without Roland and Emryn, or the Knight Captain. Tiernan beamed at the thought, that at least he could be the one to look after his dearest friend. 

It was a wrench to pull away, and he could see the sudden loss of contact reflected in Arlan’s face. Without thinking, Tiernan unclasped his travelling cloak and draped it over the weary form of his friend’s prone body. It was the warmest thing he could spare, and would at least add more weight to him before the addition of blankets. He prayed it would be enough as he lit the oil in his lamp and turned his face up towards the higher ground of the ridge.  
“Get some sleep, Arlan,” he said more to himself as he let his lantern hang low at his hip. With a final glance to his friend curled up on his side beneath layers of bedding, Tiernan smiled and continued their hike alone.

***

It was the scattered sunlight that brought Arlan around, his head felt warm from the hood over his face, his neck was stiff, and he was very thirsty. The first thing he noticed, however was the figure of Tiernan curled up beside him beneath the taut canvas. The young man was shivering in just his uniform, while the Free Marcher sweated under both cloaks and blankets. 

Arlan smiled at Tiernan’s expression, concerned even in his sleep; always dwelling on something. Judging from his awkward angle he hadn’t slept well, his frame pressed against the larger man to protect him from the cold of the lake air. Everything in his pose was protection as if Arlan were a precious thing to be shielded.  
He reached to drape an arm over Tiernan’s shoulder who rolled into him, Arlan’s very presence enough to relax him. His arm unfolded from his chest and Arlan noted with a curious smile that clutched in his hand, the threads wrapped tight against his pale fingers, were a pair of dark wooden tokens.


End file.
